


Maybe In The Next Lifetime

by HecoHansen31



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mention of Blood and Murder, Wrong Iceland Portrayal, mention of reincarnation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 08:02:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24966412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HecoHansen31/pseuds/HecoHansen31
Summary: It isn't a coincidence anymore, when Ivar keeps on seeing your face everywhere and nowhere.Telling you the story of something that has passed and is going to rehappen int he past.Maybe Fate might have given him another chance.And does this mean that he'll be able to catch it, before it is too late?
Relationships: Ivar (Vikings)/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	1. Prince, King, Boy

Ivar didn’t believe in all the reincarnation cycle shit.

He barely believed in his own gods and his mother.

But then you had happened in his life.

Nothing more than a maid in the hotel he was staying in on his trip to Iceland.

A tourist exactly like him.

It would have been difficult not to notice that accent and its heaviness in your tongue and it had been the first thing that he had seen as you talked outside of the hotel with some fellow maids, probably on a smoke break, since he saw a cigarette being passed around as you mumbled tightly something in your native tongue.

The syllables rolling on your tongue strongly and thickly and for a moment he had caught himself in staring at you.

And you had turned to him, probably not even noticing him in the crowd of tourists coming back from their usual hiking trip, a bare smirk on your lips.

And his mind had broken apart.

He had seen you in the same spot, but in different clothes no maid uniform but a rough fabric dress that certainly didn’t help your elegant figure, as you laughed loudly with other girls, all dressed in the same dreadful rags.

But your beauty shone even through that.

And you turned, smiling uneasily at him, almost as if you weren’t sure whether he’d return it or not.

And he found himself returning it.

And then he bumped into a fellow tourist, ruining his fantasy, as he noticed that you had probably finished your small break, returning inside, rapidly because the spot where you had stood was painfully empty.

He had thought it was just his dehydrated brain, coming back from a hard trekking session, imagining you the way it had happened.

But then it had started happening again.

He saw you at the lunch buffet, although you mostly worked in suites, but probably you had been asked to help out, walking in with plates and tissues, again in that horrendous maid uniform.

But this time he noticed you because a rather enormous man bumped into you, making you lose your balance and although you were able to grab the plates, steadying them, you bumped back in the man.

Who looked unhappy for that gesture.

Although he had been the one starting it.

And suddenly the scene changed and you were splashed with what looked like ale and smelled like it, a beautiful flowery crown on your head, lightly disheveled due to the hit you had received, a man looking at you, as ale also drenched him, probably from the tray you had been holding.

The man started screaming, and you endured it, but fear appeared in his eyes as his hand grabbed your wrist, and again your eyes met Ivar’s dangerously pleading and before he, himself, even knew it, he was up.

And he came to the enormous man, shifting from what looked like a warrior to an annoyed tourist and his sole presence was enough to shoo him away, as you were backed up by a friend of yours, probably having witnessed the scene.

She steadied you, getting the plates from you, and she muttered she’d cover you, also her face shifting against a more modern version of herself and an older one, with a matching flowery crown.

But you stayed in the past, your dress drenched and your hair disheveled, looking like a princess with your grateful smile as you muttered a ‘thank you’, some trace of warmth on the words, and Ivar was left paralyzed on there.

Hvitserk ushered him back, as slowly the world became of the bright minimalist style the hotel had chosen for its details, and ditched the darkness of a great hall, only lighted up by torches and fires, but he couldn’t push it out of his mind.

He couldn’t push you out of his mind.

Because, as if the daily hallucinations weren’t enough, you tormented his sleep.

You’d appear in your old-fashioned clothes and your sweet smile and you’d meet under a starry sky, as you brushed his hair back and told him things that didn’t seem to have any sense for him.

‘… we shouldn’t be doing this’ you whispered in his ear, as you pushed yourself away, playfully, as he brought you back in his lap with a steady hand, as his eyes shot in your beautiful ones.

Something didn’t change also in dreams.

‘Then why are you here?’ he heard himself ask, as his lips moved on their own, almost as if they had their own script ‘… why are you here, little thrall?’.

Although he understood every word, he couldn’t deny that he knew they weren’t talking in his native tongue, although it looked a distant relative of it.

Almost as an ancient ancestor.

One that spoke of magic and prophecy.

‘… don’t call me “little thrall” ‘the way you said it, made you hiss your breath through his teeth, although you didn’t look as threateningly as he roared under you, pushing himself on top of you, meanwhile he lightly pushed down your dress in his movement ‘… haven’t you promised me to be “your queen” ‘.

He didn’t feel solely your voice, but also his uneasiness at your wicked humor, that hit him somewhere deep.

Somewhere not everybody could reach.

And you noticed it.

‘… you know that I don’t mean anything bad with it’ he replied softly ‘… I just play around, Ivar’.

‘Will you play around with my heart too?’ he said with a sneer as he brought himself away from you, although all his body ached for you again, as he brought you closer to him again ‘… will you be a ruthless queen?’.

‘I’ll be your ruthless lover if you allow me’.

He had then woken up, with the thought of coldness coating his body, although the air in the room was hot and he had blankets all over him.

His hands reached out for you, but found nothing but emptiness.

And he realized that he was slowly going mad.

It didn’t help in the slightest that you were always somehow around him, something that he dreaded, trying to spend as little time in the hotel as he could, even thinking about taking the offer of staying with Floki, who had moved to Iceland since Helga’s death.

He knew the old man wouldn’t have hated him, but he also understood that Floki needed his space.

To distance himself from the painful memories.

He had visited him that one morning after the dreams had become too much for him and he had been barely able to look at you, when you served him his coffee, unable to properly forget the way your body had felt against his.

And the way you looked without clothes.

‘He’ll think that you hate her’ had commented Hvitserk, as the girl skittered off, with Ivar not even thanking you for the service.

‘Good’.

Because he preferred hate to uncertainty.

Mostly when the dreams showed him so much intensity that made him uneasy.

Working with Floki on small projects, starting from his latest boat, did help him get his mind off, but strangely his mouth had voiced a question to the old man, a pagan like him and quite more convinced in signs.

And he didn’t even seem fazed when Ivar told him about the girl of his dreams and hallucinations.

‘… maybe I just got wrong the dosage of the pain medicine’ he had muttered, meanwhile Floki’s face assumed a strange twinkle ‘… but it just… it haunts me in a way that is uncomfortable’.

“Maybe she is your soulmate from a past life” muttered Floki “… or maybe lady Freya, herself, is tempting you…”.

“I don’t know which one is cringier…” replied tightly Ivar, although he had been thinking some pretty similar option, even more since it seemed too much of a coincidence “… old man, you should get your head away from your fables”.

“… then why did you ask me for a suggestion?” shot back annoyedly Floki, although he had a soft smirk on his bearded face “… you know that this isn’t normal Ivar, you just need to believe”.

“I don’t know about you, knock-legged fool, but I find it hard to believe that a girl might be interested in me”.

“On that I agree” Floki replied softly, a reprimand and a laugh in his voice, as Ivar shot him the sponge with which they were cleaning his boat “… but there might be some freaks out there”.

He had come back from Floki’s house a bit more of good humor in his walk, but at the same time he couldn’t help but overthink about whether he was maybe just overthinking this all.

Or maybe if he had a reason to overthink everything.

And maybe he did, since he bumped into you, on the way back home.

You looked quite different in ‘civilian clothes’ probably having just finished a turn at the hotel, and on your way to some party, seeing the jeans miniskirt you were wearing and the glittery top, enhancing your perfect curve, although he had seen you in satin and silk in his dreams.

And you always looked beautiful.

He moved to let you pass, having blocked the exit of the hotel, as he slumped to his side, hoping you wouldn’t notice it, as he kept up on his rude persona.

He might have been considering that you were his soulmate, but this didn’t mean he wanted anything to do with you.

Or better… that you wanted to do anything with him.

But strangely you did.

A light of recognition shone in your eyes and for a moment he thought that maybe you had also been plagued by weird dreams, but then a soft blush, familiar to him, because it always shone under the stars they met in their dreams, appeared in your cheeks.

“Hey, I just… Gosh this is awkward…” even your voice seemed the same, modernized by your lack of knowledge of islandic “… I wanted to thank you for sticking up for me, a few days ago”.

“… you are welcome” he replied in a tight English, something that made her breathe out in relief, again that beautiful smile on your lips, and it shifted slowly from the focus of artificial lights to the one of torches.

“… I just… I just didn’t want to seem rude, but I wanted to make sure that you knew that I truly appreciated it, not many would have done it” you then moved to English, which you handled better, as his eyes stuck onto your eyes, a beautiful color shining in them.

And if they said that eyes were the mirrors of your soul, he saw himself reflected in them.

But it wasn’t him in his lazy pants and Norwegian metal band t-shirt, but it was him in original Viking clothes, staring at you with a harsh smile, hidden behind a good dose of annoyance.

But he knew that he was for sure enjoying whatever you were blabbering about.

You gave him your name, although he had caught it in the tag of your uniform, but he felt well properly introducing to you, a bit less ‘the stalker next door’.

“… I wanted to tell you this morning, but… you seemed a bit… away” you spoke to him, almost at ease although your words raced away from your mouth.

And although he had pushed you away all this time, he didn’t have the heart to tell you that he had tried to avoid you.

He might be a monstrous boy, doing monstrous things.

But he felt like when it came to you, past and present, he couldn’t just be cruel.

“… it was the coffee” he commented, searching the most trivial of excuses “… it fucking sucks”.

You erupted in a laughter after he uttered those words and again you had that crown of sunflowers in your head, a beautiful pair of bloody rubies earrings catching the light as your breath smelled of ale, something hazy and lazy in you

“I can’t say anything about that” you muttered, before leaning conspiratorially in, and Ivar couldn’t help but feel your smell, probably to be fresh and clean at the party, not definitely for him, but something reeked from the angles of his memory.

Spices and fresh flowers.

“… that isn’t coffee… it is dirty water” you commented, showing him your perfect teeth, as he shook his head, unable to withhold a laughter “… but I know a place where it is decent…”.

Was that invite?

Suddenly his mind shifted away, another sneaky proposal, another cheerful smile.

He had been crying over his mother’s death and you had come to him, softly and attentive, careful in your movements almost as if you were approaching a wounded animal.

‘I know a place where you could be alone’.

‘I wouldn’t be alone with you, stupid thrall’.

‘… don’t worry, my king, I’ll leave you alone, I have no intention to stay near somebody who is…’.

He had turned to you, willing to hurt you, just to ease his own hurt, but then he had been taken back by the determination in your face, something wickedly smart shining in your teary eyes.

You were also mourning.

‘… atrociously rude’.

“… so, I could offer you a coffee to thank you more properly…”.

You were tentative, almost as if after gaining the courage of approaching him, you had grown shy, but you were stubborn and wouldn’t have backed down.

He knew it.

Deep in his bones.

And who was he to oppose Fate?

And who was Hvitserk not to meddle in his brother’s love problems?

“Yeah of course, Ivar will join you!” he commented coming from behind with that knowing smirk of his, the one that got easily on Ivar’s nerves and although you seemed a bit shocked, you simply nodded, exchanging mechanically your number with Ivar, something for which he was grateful because the modern thing made him focused on the present.

‘… I can pick you up at the end of my lunch turn, so that I can lead you to the bar, if you won’t think that it is creepy’ you had explained with one last smile.

‘You don’t seem like the ordinary psycho” shot back Ivar, gaining a little giggle from you ‘… and I mean… my brother would come searching from me… I hope’.

Hvitserk didn’t look too convinced, but he nodded, and you speeded off, your phone coming to life, probably some friends asking you why were you late and you excused yourself, meanwhile you pushed between the two brothers, turning one last time to Ivar.

A silly smirk on your lips, as you lightly bit them.

And your past-self looked at him and before he could even blink, you were gone, enough to make him think this was all a dream.

Till Hvitserk sent him a light look and a confused one, eventually settling up for a brotherly hug.

‘… can’t believe that my brother, the rude one, got a date with a pretty girl!’.

‘… it is just coffee’ it would have just you hoping to seem nice to him, because you felt like you owed him ‘… it isn’t anything too much’.

But for a moment he had thought to see a light of understanding in your eyes, as they met his.

But he didn’t want to be mistaken.

He certainly wouldn’t have asked you:

‘Did we meet in a past life?’.

… if you hadn’t already thought, he was a creeper, you’d have thought it for sure if he acted like that.

And yet what he dreamed that night shook him to the very core: for now he had dreamt sweet moments, hot moments and some quite angsty ones, his own personality flaring up and contrasting with your gentle but stubborn one.

But that night… that night ripped his heart apart.

You laid naked, exposing the wound in the middle of your chest.

He had witnessed many death, or at least in the version of his dream he had, since he was somehow an old soul, but yours shook him to his very core, as he ran up to him, although his braces weighted him down extremely, making him trip and fall right on top of you.

And as he raised his head, he was right in front of your face.

You looked terrified.

Death hadn’t caught you prepared.

Death had taken you away from him too early.

And this couldn’t be true.

He had screamed for you, grabbed your head and put it onto his lap, he had tried any way to usher you closer, to bring you home to him again, as he begged Hel not to take you, eventually understanding that whoever had taken you, had taken you meanwhile you were surprised.

And you hadn’t been able to fight back.

And he knew deep down it was his fault.

Deep down his arrogance had made him pay dearly for the crown of thorns on his head.

And you were the price of it.

You, who should have had a matching crown of flowers and a dress of pure golden as you looked out to him and smiled, keeping your promise to be his ruthless lover.

His ruthless queen.

He had cursed the gods.

And promised you that he’d have found you again.

In another life, maybe.

And when he woke up, he finally realized what was happening.

The gods had heard his curses, and they were coming for him in a dreadful way.

He wondered if you knew.

If he had been the only one ‘blessed’ with that memory, although he almost wanted you to be spared from the pain of seeing your own death.

He hadn’t seen you enough to have noticed if you also knew him as well, and again… asking would have made him seem quite crazy, but right now he couldn’t help but feel like there was such a longing in him.

Almost as a possessive wounded animal.

But again… he didn’t want to be a stalker.

He almost wanted not to show up, but he thought that it would have made his staying just awkward and since he had to stay for one more weak.

But at the same time, as he finally seemed to understand what was going on… he didn’t know if he wanted to get further in this or if… he should have just let it go.

He didn’t know which one pained him more.

Although he barely knew you.

Gosh, this entire thing was crazy.

In the end, he decided to go to the ‘date’, but he would have tried his best to keep the entire ‘having vision’ back, alongside the fact that he was quite sure that his ‘charming’ personality wouldn’t have won another date.

But you strangely seemed eager to meet him again, as he met you at the service exit, seeing you in comfortable black shorts, and a small white sleeveless shirt, elegant enough to show that you had put an effort, but casual enough to seem comfortable.

And that damn smell of fresh flowers and spices followed you like a trace.

The trip to the small coffee shop he hadn’t noticed, although Iceland was a second home to him, was filled with you talking, something that he allowed happily, mostly because although he knew flashes of his past and how the stories had started and how it had ended…

… he didn’t know who you were, truly.

But he discovered it quickly.

You were a student of journalism and that year you had decided to work abroad in Iceland, your dream place, although you couldn’t deny that the language was pretty difficult, gaining quite the laugh from Ivar as you mistook in Icelandic ‘cherry’ with ‘donkey’.

‘It’ll get better…’ he had commented before sending you a lightly humorous look ‘… maybe… I mean… Hvitserk learned it so… everybody can do it’.

You had seemed shocked to discover that he had four brothers, one of which was a step-brother from a previous relationship of his father, something that had made him understand that you hadn’t been blessed with visions of your past life together.

‘… yeah we are kind of “The Sound Of Music” but you have to replace the music with stabbing and trying to punch each other when we are all in the same room together’ he had commented, proud of the laugh you had given him for that silly humor.

‘Sisters are worse’ and for a moment your voice was old and young at the same time, and the memory of smaller version of you gossiping with you in barely lighted room made him aware that you had had one sister ‘… they steal your clothes and pull on your hair’.

‘I am not proud of it but… we might have had a pulling hair contest, not too long ago’ he mumbled, trying to shift the attention away from that thought of the past.

He was in the present.

And although he had been given some kind of other opportunity with you…

… it didn’t mean that it would have worked out, also this time.

Gods had the strangest way to work.

He had born with his legs broken, but they had given him a functioning brain, which was much more than abled people had and yet… he was missing on so many things…

‘… you have pretty long hair, I can see that happening’ you teased him.

An immediate and intense comfortableness between you two, heightened by the small coffee place, definitely not crowded with a local aesthectic but a mixture of different locations inside of it, with all the pictures at the walls, lined by postcards.

‘… whenever I feel homesick, I come here’ you had commented, as you settled down by what you called ‘the nicest table’, since it stood right next to the window, giving a view of the small city ‘… and sometimes I like spying from here’.

“Wouldn’t have pegged you for a spy?” but he knew all too well that you had been one for him, a long time ago.

And it had gotten you killed.

“… just an observer” you commented with a small smirk “… I swear I am not a stalker”.

“I’ll believe you on your word” he shot back, with a wicked smile that made it almost seem as if they understood each other “… and I hope the coffee is good”.

“Don’t worry, I assure you it is the best” the air changed to a less heavy one, for which he was thankful, but your eyes shifted hiding under the men, moving away from you and for a moment he was disappointed.

He thought you were hiding yourself.

And the conversation subsided becoming more chatter.

Soft and sweet chatter, almost as if they had always known each other.

“… are you thinking of celebrating Midsomar, here?” you had asked him, after he had told you that he had been coming to Iceland since he was a child and he worshipped the ways of the old gods, leaving you quite impressed, as you explained your fascination for the Nordic style of life “… the girls… my other friends at my hotel want to go to some party… but…”.

“… but you want the whole experience” finished Ivar, as if the words had always been there for him to say “… flower crown, comprehended”.

“Don’t tell me that you won’t wear it?” you teased him back with an easiness that made him smirk lightly.

“… maybe”.

A blush appeared on your cheeks at his devilish tone.

Then a shade of seriousness passed in your ancient eyes.

“… we might think about passing Midsomar together, if you have an idea on how to spend it that is better than holding back your drunken friend puking in the first bush they find” you suggested, innocence appearing in your eyes as you suddenly almost seemed to hear for the first time the words you had spoken, before mumbling hurriedly “… I mean… it might seem crazy… Gosh we have just known each other”.

“… I don’t mind it” his words were suddenly in that old and the accent of the old language of reeked them, as you met his eyes again “… we should pass Midsomar together”.

Your whole face lighted up as you raised your face to meet his eyes.

“I know this might seem crazy…” your voice seemed almost a prophecy “… but it seems like I have known you all my life”.


	2. Slave, Dead, Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Visions have accompanied your staying in Iceland, tainting your experience and making you meet the literal 'man of your dreams', but is this a crazed fever dream or is this the truth?

You changed your outfit for the umpteenth time, wondering if there was anything that would ever fit the theme of Midsomar, allowing you to show off your body, in a way that was flattering and proper.

Your friend, Hedda, had already chosen an outfit and was waiting outside of your shared bedroom at the small apartment you had rented for your staying in Iceland, singing out loud some Swedish song and refusing to give you any help with dressing up.

‘You need to find your inner “Midsomar” ‘ she had muttered after you had gotten out of your wardrobe in a bland floral dress ‘… but also you gotta impress that idiotic guy, you met, so… get out your best Maja’.

‘I don’t think that being a crazy witch in a cult will win me many points with any boy’ you had shot back, eventually completely ignoring her suggestions, trying on at first a few other dresses, and eventually settling up on an oversized white shirt in a pair of your best shorts.

The flower crown you had bought in a Chinese shop, already awaiting you in bed, and as you pushed it onto your head, the vision reappeared.

You had been having visions since the start of your staying in Iceland.

At first you had though they were simply strange dreams, created by your first holiday without your parents and far away from home.

They were different visions of different beautiful girls in clothes from different historical ages, but they all had one thing in common.

Your face.

And then when you had at first noticed Ivar, his own face had haunted your dreams.

As a king, as a slave, as a commander, in a haunt that reversed the roles.

Sometimes you’d be the prey and sometimes he’d be the hunter, and sometimes the opposite would happen.

In the mirror various figures shifted: a meek girl with a flower crown like yours, a well-dressed woman, her face hidden by a thick veil and the heavy crown on her head, again appearing in a more frail way on a woman with a spoiled smirk and expecting eyes.

But you knew that deep down they were all you.

And you were desperately trying to understand what this all truly meant.

You had eventually settled on browsing through some rather confusing pages about the interpretation of dreams, settling yourself up in the ‘reincarnation aisle’ discovering that many in forums thought that in dreams, they could see their past lives.

Or so they believed.

But in most cases, it was boring details that could be easily overlooked and most of the time they were interpreted by clairvoyants that wanted nothing more than to make their daily earn.

And you couldn’t blame them.

But your situation wasn’t a hoax.

Because there was so much confusion in your heart and mind.

And you knew it was a downright wrong thing to follow Ivar around, just because he was the literal ‘man of your dreams’.

And you knew that you would have probably ended up sounding as a crazed hysterical woman, had you confessed him that you had been dreaming about him for your entire staying in Iceland, seeing him in various outfits.

But one thing never changed also for him.

He had loved you and he had lost you.

Never the other way around.

Which you found lightly discriminatory and sexist…

… but Fate didn’t welcome any complaints, did He?

You wished you could talk about it with someone, but not only you didn’t know that well the few friends you had done around the hotel and in the city.

But also… who would have believed you?

And who wouldn’t have wanted to intern you in the nearest psych-ward, after hearing about your crazy dreams?

But this secret was burning you on the inside, completely ruining your holiday there, because you weren’t able, not only to sleep properly, but the knowledge of some previous past life was shaking your beliefs to the core.

And not in a good way.

You almost doubted the reality around you.

And more than one time you had found yourself pinching your arms in search of some signs that you hadn’t simply dreamt also this life.

“… are you fucking finished?” muttered loudly Hedda, startling and effectively reminding you that you were indeed in 2019, getting yourself ready for a Midsomar ‘date’ (because Ivar certainly hadn’t meant it that way, when you had basically invited yourself in it).

“Yeah yeah!” you shot back, slightly annoyed at her antics but eventually settling up on adjusting the flower crown on your head, as you grabbed your clutch, stuffing an extra charger for your phone and headphones in it.

And then appeared in the hallway of your room, for Hedda’s inspection, who told you to turn around, meanwhile she examined attentively your outfit, eventually holding up eight fingers, which was enough to make it pass.

‘… cute but have we forgotten the “sexy factor”?’ commented Hedda, as you were already grabbing a jeans jacket in case it ended up being colder.

You had agreed with Ivar on meeting each other for lunch and then move to a little place where a small folklore festival was to be held.

And had you had a bit of energy, you would join your friends for the night to a ‘Midsomar’ themed party, for which you weren’t too eager, but your friends had already seemed offended by the fact that you wouldn’t have passed the day with them, partying and drinking.

But you wanted the true Icelandic experience.

That was why you had moved there.

And honestly partying and drinking could be done everywhere.

Instead what Ivar had told you that he had planned that day was much more typical of the place and not something that you’d have found everywhere.

And having more time to spend with the ‘man of your dreams’ was definitely a bonus.

Hedda, who, although seemed extremely superficial, had assumed an extremely motherly and protective role over you, had wanted to accompany you, although she had used the excuse that:

‘Booze doesn’t affect me that much, anymore’ she had then winked your way ‘… and didn’t you say that Ivar has a cute brother?’.

You had barely seen Ivar’s brother, but you had felt like you had to give something to Hedda for ‘sacrificing’ herself for you.

Meanwhile you were getting out of your small apartment, making sure to lock after yourself, since Hedda always forgot, you received a message from Ivar, letting you know that they had just arrived to his uncle’s barn, sending you his location and reassuring you to take your time, since they had arrived early to help with the preparations.

You had thanked him, meanwhile you were thoroughly panicking because you didn’t want to arrive late, but to dissuade the uncomfortableness of the entire situation, you asked him ‘whether his brother was hot or not’.

Which you realized a minute after locking the door didn’t sound quite alright.

Shit.

You hoped that at least in one of the previous lives you hadn’t been this awkward.

‘.. for a friend’ you added, hoping he didn’t think you wanted to flirt with his brother.

Because you didn’t want to, for sure.

Although Destiny had indeed pushed you closer, you couldn’t deny that you had found yourself comfortable with Ivar in a way that hadn’t happened in so much with the few guys you had tried out a date with.

And it truly made you feel like this was real.

Like that was your reality.

He was clearly much shier than you were used to, but this didn’t mean that he hadn’t a sarcastically cocky side that had brought you to tears with laughter and judgement.

And it made you feel comfortable and at ease.

As if only with him you could be the true you.

And not the long line of previous reincarnations you had been.

‘… my brother does consider himself hot’ he sent you ‘… hot if you like brainless dudes who will do nothing but eat and drink’.

‘That’s Hedda’s perfect type’ you sent back, careful to avoid breaking your neck on the stairs, Hedda thankfully coming to your side to guide you meanwhile you messaged.

“I do hope that he is worth it” commented your friend, trying to sneak a small look at your conversation “… because those shoes certainly aren’t made for texting and walking”.

“His brother is hot” you were simply able to reply in the general confusion.

“Did you ask him?” shot back Hedda, facepalming as she completely stopped you from slamming your face on an unseen step “… you seriously… you better hope that that guy is in for it…”.

“Don’t make me feel worse than I am already feeling!” you protested loudly “… he is hotter than his hot brother, so do pray for me instead”.

“… you’ll need a miracle” she protested, but did make you arrive at the end of the stairs safe and sound, and then took your phone, throwing it in her bigger bag, as you complained loudly “… and no you are driving, so no phone, neither for the hot guy”.

“Always the responsible ones…” you muttered, knowing that it wasn’t the truth in the slightest “… just let me tell him that we’ll reach them in a quarter hour”.

Hedda simply sent you an annoyed look, before relenting as she got in the car you had rented for the occasion.

“… I wouldn’t have pegged you as one of those who is constantly texting her boyfriend” she muttered, lowering the car windows and you quickly typed in your message, waiting a few second for a simple ‘ok’ from Ivar.

Were you panicking?

A bit.

But you’d be fine.

Or he’d realize that you were seriously a stalker had you talked with him anymore.

And then Hedda reminded you of her as she sounded the car horn, effectively startling you away from your anxious brain.

And after all, the faster you got the car started, the faster you’d see him again.

You tried to convince yourself that wasn’t a comp6letely creepy thought.

\---

You had been able not to lose yourselves on the trip to Ivar’s uncle’s barn, which had been a great way to certainly hype you up.

Hedda’s awful choice in music had done the rest.

But now you honestly didn’t want to get out of the car.

“Please don’t make me spray you with water” commented Hedda between her teeth, as she adjusted her blush and her own flower crown and you nervously curled a strand of hair between your fingers.

“… just give a minute”.

And she did, moving to lightly check some messages on her own phone, meanwhile you eased up in the place where you had parked, which was supposed to be a few minutes away from Ivar’s uncle’s barn.

In the middle of basically nowhere.

Hedda had joked about the fact that you had seriously ended up in ‘Midsomar’ and would be soon sacrificed, much to your already panicking soul, as you tried to search in yourself some willingness to meet again Ivar.

It wasn’t the simple nervousness of finally seeing the guy you had a crush on.

It was a multilayered feeling of fear and anxiety that had gone on for many years, as your lives were threaded together and separated by Fate.

And you didn’t know how to calm yourself.

In the end Hedda did spray a bit of water on your face, bringing you back from your historical thought, as you finally realized that you couldn’t let past history influence your present.

Although you didn’t know how to do that.

“Is everything alright?” asked Hedda as you moved away from the parking lot towards the small house, walking slow so that you could arrive there comfortably “… are you sure that this guy isn’t a psycho?”.

‘I am actually the psycho, with all these dreams of a past that maybe never existed between us’ you wanted to say, but simply shook your head, yawning lightly, because you had been up till late last night for your last turn at the hotel.

And you tried to keep your mind on the hotel’s turns that you’d have to restart tomorrow, to keep your mind in the present you were living.

Which worked well…

… till you arrived to the house and you found Ivar already out, helping up with setting in place what looked like a small gazebo, to protect you from the sun, meanwhile another boy set up a small plastic table under it.

And you wanted to turn and run away.

What had you been thinking when you had basically invited yourself to what looked like a reserved family ceremony?

Did you seriously think it was a good idea?

But before you could make a complete U-turn with your body, you heard your name being called out by a slight Nordic accent and as you turned around, your reality had changed inevitably.

No matter how much you tried to bring back your annoying turns at the hotel.

“… Ivar” the words left your mouth, although it felt like it had just been forced open, no matter how much you didn’t want to say those words.

His eyes smiled gently at you, as he walked to you, his clothes weren’t modern anymore, but they were an hard armor of leather, constricting him in a way that pushed his whole body to appear bigger than he was.

Relief flooded in you, as you faced him again, the knowledge of him having come back to you completely making you emotional, although you stopped yourself to wait for him to come to you again.

Your vision was disrupted by Hedda’s nails digging themselves in your upper arm, and when you batted your eyelashes, the entire set up you had imagined was gone.

Although Ivar was very much in front of you.

And looked like he had asked you something.

“I am sorry, I didn’t…” Gosh… he must have thought you were a weirdo for sure.

“… I just said that I am glad that you are finally here” his words were truly genuine as a softer smile appeared on his face “… and that you found us so easily”.

“I am a wonderful GPS” commented Hedda, noticing that you were having quite the trouble replying and more generally at talking “… I am Hedda, by the way”.

Ivar looked wary of Hedda but didn’t say anything, and his brother seemed quite taken by her appearance and he pushed himself up from the place where he had sat down, presenting himself to her.

And from the gleaming bits in Hedda’s eyes, you knew that he was hot enough.

And you were soon left with Ivar.

Gosh, could you embarrass yourself more.

Probably… yes.

You almost wanted to plead Hedda with your eyes to stay with you, but at the same time you completely understood she wasn’t your babysitter in any way.

“… so that is why you asked me if my brother was hot” simply commented Ivar, and although you blushed profusely at that knowledge, you felt like he had just shattered the wall of awkwardness between you.

“Hedda needs to have her own fun” you muttered “… mostly because she is a bitch whenever she doesn’t get enough attention”.

Ivar laughed loudly, and when you had both calmed down, you moved to ask if you could do something to help him.

And he redirected you around the gazebo to set it up, as he revealed to you that his uncle would be away for the day.

He was extremely blushy the whole time he said it, and you were a properly matching tomato.

‘… he said that he is too old to for these things” he commented softly ‘… he went fishing and will be back by nigh-time’.

‘Still it was very generous of him to offer us his place to stay’ you tried to make your words appear gentle and kind, although you couldn’t deny that you again felt a bit embarrassed by the whole situation.

Two guys and two girls with a small private barn all to themselves.

Hedda would have called you a stupid not to think that this was an entire trick to get you to stay closer to Ivar.

But Ivar’s words seemed honest in what he had said.

And yet it didn’t lessen your embarrassment.

And neither your knowledge that this had happened before.

A picture perfect in your mind of a ’70-fashioned yourself, sleeping with your head against Ivar’s, meanwhile a lazy fire crackled beside you, light giggle and breathy moans from the other couple with you, who had been much more courageous than you two.

Because although you had been on the road for quite some time, you hadn’t been able to do much more than simply stand closer.

“… he hasn’t been the same since his wife died” commented Ivar, his voice lowering itself slightly and bringing you back to the reality.

Not the peaceful and nightly one you had seen in your mind.

You should have taken some medicine for these hallucinations.

And got a whole check-up once you were home.

Although you weren’t sure you wanted them to disappear.

The knowledge that you had been able to score a guy like Ivar in past lives certainly stroked your ego.

“I am sorry to hear that” you replied softly, another memory in your mind, an angry Ivar, nothing peaceful in the way he threw things all around the room and screamed, but then after all the air in his lungs had disappeared he had searched you, shielding himself in your chest, meanwhile he let out all the emotions he had been denying to feel.

“… thank you” his words were honest now as they had been there “… but on better topics, the place we are going after should be good, my brother has never played there so that is a sign of true quality”.

You laughed softly at his comment, meanwhile he kept a straight face but eventually cracked up a small smirk.

“Please don’t tell me it is this brother” you muttered, pointing to Hvitserk, who had been trying to show Hedda a magic trick, involving his abs, thing that had made Hedda very much interested.

(In the abs)

(Not the magic trick. That was pathetic).

“… she’ll make him ask to play her a song, record him and play it till she gets bored with it, and I already think her taste in music his problematic”.

Ivar laughed at your sassy comment, as you managed to finally settle up the gazebo, sitting in the grass to stare at your marvelous work.

“… no not this one” he commented, shooting you a conspiratorial look that made you laugh loudly “… another of my many brothers… Sigurd, the one that I can’t stand”.

“I thought you couldn’t stand all of them”.

But the name Sigurd brought something back to you.

Something dreadful that your subconscious tried to keep locked away and again you pinched yourself to avoid deepening up.

You had seen yourself dying in horrendous way each night.

Once you had been shot, another time an overdose had taken you and the most horrendous had been when a sword had pierced your back.

You had woken up with the feeling of it, screaming loudly as you groped your chest sure to find iron and blood in it.

But it had been just a nightmare.

And yet each time you died you had this knowledge that this had happened.

That it had been painful.

And that it hadn’t been fair.

And what was linked to the name ‘Sigurd’ seemed much worse than that.

Ivar felt the shift in you and you were grateful when he suggested he went inside and started to bring a few starters and drinks outside, since you had to admit that you were quite famished.

And so was his brother.

Hounding him almost like a dog, as you laughed softly at the image.

Having seen it thousands of times happening.

And yet it still hanged in your mind as if it was new.

Hedda took this moment to come to you, muttering about how dreamily Ivar’s brother, Hvitserk, was.

‘… and Ivar does seem to be quite taken by you…’ she commented, shooting you a knowing look ‘… and you seemed a bit taken by the gazebo, I’ll admit it’.

You pushed her away with your shoulder, although you couldn’t deny that.

And you were glad in the following moments to be able to simply think about food.

You thanked profusely Ivar when you realized that the meals he had gotten ready were some Icelandic ones that you hadn’t tried yet, mixed with some other typical dishes, and you were honestly impressed.

‘Oh, don’t worry, Hvitserk over here is the one who cooked everything’ he commented, shooting a quick look at his brother, meanwhile Hedda let out a breathy ‘oh seriously?’.

And you and Ivar laughed of those two idiots.

Again, that natural complicity sparkling up between you, as you talked with each other.

It just felt so comfortable and natural that you couldn’t help but confess him your ‘darkest’ and ‘deepest’ secrets, as he did the same of you, both laid out in the sun, after lunch, staring up at the it, barely shielding yourself from it with your hands.

You joked and you laughed.

And it almost felt like you hadn’t lost anything in your previous life.

As if nothing existed except you and him, in that moment.

But your soul was growing restless.

Almost as if it expected something bad to happen.

Because history had a tendency to repeat itself.

And your soul knew it all too well.

So, you were secretly happy when you moved into a crowd for the musical festival, glad to be able to move yourself among many people, the music completely blaring your mind in a calm state that brought you to definitely enjoy the moment.

And so, seemed Hedda.

You had also had special places, because of Ivar’s disability, standing in the front, meanwhile various bands of various musical genres moved onto stage, alternating themselves, between applauses and ‘boo’s, making you definitely feel like this was an unlike ‘Midsomar’.

But soon it got a bit too much for you and Ivar, the man almost reading your mind (which scared you, because your mind wasn’t a nice place in that moment) and you both suggested going for a round of cold drinks.

Hedda and Hvitserk carrying their orders on you, taking great advantage as you muttered softly in protest, Ivar matching your harsh glare, but you both laughed it off, moving to the small bar set up there, the crowd making it again a wonderful occasion to make small talk with Ivar.

But you couldn’t deny that every talk with him wasn’t simply ‘small talk’.

Although you knew that Hvitserk and Hedda were waiting for you to come back, you still decided to set yourself up in the deserted tables next to the small bar, since everyone was dancing in the crowd, but you were able to still enjoy the music.

Even better with nobody sweating against you.

The lady that brought you your drinks smirked softly at you and said something in Icelandic that you couldn’t quite catch but simply smirked at her, meanwhile Ivar blushed bright red.

‘What did she say?’ you asked, twirling your orange juice in its glass, meanwhile Ivar looked like he might choke on his own beer.

‘… she muttered something about… us being a cute couple’.

This time you basically spluttered the orange juice in his face.

Blushing even harder because of that.

‘… oh’ you simply were able to retort.

‘Oh, indeed’ he repeated, with some kind of bitter embarrassment to it.

And suddenly you were feeling deeply uncomfortable.

Unsure of whether you had said the right thing or not.

And the painful knowledge of your past hanging on you.

An awkward silence fell onto you heavily and you didn’t know what to say and you didn’t want to go back, because Hedda wouldn’t be much helpful since she had set her sights on Hvitserk and she’d have his number for sure, by the end of the night…

… if not something else.

In the end, Hvitserk and Hedda came looking up for you, joining you to drink, something that certainly made you feel definitely better, a bit less awkward, as you leaned on Hedda, almost shying away to her side.

And Ivar did the same with Hvitserk.

In the end you managed to eventually talk with Hvitserk, but awkwardness had again created a wall between you, two…

… a wall that had to be shredded, because Hedda had come up with a dangerous idea.

‘Why don’t you and Ivar spend the night together?’ she suggested, and again you were a tomato ‘… I mean… you could stay over there, since Hvitserk and I were thinking of partying a bit more and I know that you don’t like it. And I feel bad in making you stay alone…’

Other than the fact that she had basically invited yourself in her house, you didn’t think that it was a good idea, and told her so, insisting that Ivar’s uncle would be soon back.

‘… then you can stay for a bit and then go back’ it was obvious that both she and Hvitserk were playing matchmakers.

And you and Ivar didn’t feel like it, in the slightest.

You had already Fate pushing you up close.

That was enough.

You insisted with Hedda that you didn’t want to be of any bother to Ivar, and she insisted back that it wasn’t good to leave you coming back alone.

And although Ivar didn’t seem the type to be guilt-tripped into doing anything, he eventually agreed, although he told you that he’d have to see with his uncle if you could stay over for the night.

‘… oh no no, don’t worry!’ you tried to protest, already feeling like a useless baggage ‘… I’ll just go back before it is too late, I mean… it is still pretty sunny’.

But your mutter had gone unnoticed and after another round in the crowd, the concert had stopped, setting up a more commercial DJ sets, as you went back with Hvitserk’s car, the one to which you were gone to the concert, an hour away from the barn.

Back at the barn, the situation with Ivar hadn’t become better and another flashback had developed in your mind.

An annoying ride of carriage, because you knew that somehow Ivar was angry with you and you should have been angry with him, but at the same time you were damnably worried for him.

And you had reached out for him.

Finding the same gesture replied in the future.

And you were glad you had chosen to leave Ivar take the front seat, meanwhile you had simply reached out for Hedda’s hands, who sent you a look, as if to check whether you had inhaled some passive ‘smoke’ from the crowd of the festival.

You wished.

And when you arrived to the place you and Ivar basically were barely able to get out of the car, before Hedda and Hvitserk sprinted off, effectively leaving you stranded.

“Shit” muttered Ivar under his breath and you couldn’t have expressed better your thoughts, as you faced him, and all his previous reincarnations appeared in front of you.

A Viking warrior, a merchant, a lord.

And then you, bloodied and lost.

You shifted your head away from him, focusing it on your dirtied converse shoes.

“… if you want, we can go inside” he proposed eventually his tone settling up on a defeated tone “… nothing too much to see, but we might have beer…”.

“… have to drive” you reminded him.

“… and whatever you might want to drink with no alcohol” he commented, something almost comical in his words “… which is a sad choice, I’ll admit”.

“I am used to it” you shot back with a slight smirk “… does Hedda seem the type to be trusted behind a car wheel?”.

“You do make an excellent point”.

And then you dived inside, the small barn, being quite welcoming and quite comforting, definitely something that made you remember of home, as you noticed the small figurines draping and decorating elegantly the main hall.

Ivar saw that they had caught your eyes.

And not solely because they were beautiful.

But you had seen them in your dreams.

And then you felt like you had a heavy stone on your lungs, and you had to free yourself from it.

“Ivar, I have a thing to tell you”.


End file.
